I’m so angry right now.
I’m angry at The Man for flinching when I try to hug or kiss him, for getting grossed out when I have to explain something about my body to him because he asks a question that I can’t answer delicately, for sulking ALL.THE.TIME. I’m angry that when I bring any of these up, he swears up and down that there’s nothing wrong, and turns it back on me. He asks why I always have to ask him if he’s angry at me, or what’s wrong, because there’s nothing wrong. But a kiss or a hug or a ‘hey beautiful’ once every few days would go a really long way. I’m literally starved for affection over here.
I’m also angry at myself for letting my life just go on down the same path for so long. I’m sad, so I eat too much. I get fat and even less happy. I’m angry, so I make myself feel better by sleeping in or taking my time playing around on the internet. I accomplish nothing. I dream about where I’d rather be, but I’m afraid to work towards that goal, because The Man can’t come with me. But what is it that I’m waiting around for? To be harrumphed at for the rest of my life? Will he ever get a job and go back to being himself, or is this all I have to look forward to? A sullen, sulking lump of joyless man, smoking endless cigarettes on the front porch in his socks? I don’t know how long I can take it. It’s been years of this, so it’s not like I haven’t tried hard enough.
Maybe I should have a deadline in mind. I guess now that I’ve put that in writing, I already did have a deadline. If we are still in New Orleans on my birthday, I’m going to figure out a way to get out of here, with or without him. By then I’ll be 32, and if I keep playing my cards right, my debt will be paid off. The next step will be setting myself up to live a life that fulfills my expectations – travel, adventure, laughter, singing, dancing, friends, love, reading, absorbing, reflecting, becoming complete.